A Preacher and His Wife

Chapter Sixteen

The following day I had no choice but to pick up the axe again and continue fighting with the land. Things were just as uncomfortable in the ensuing weeks but I began to see progress, not just in the space I was clearing and the thing that I was building, but in myself. I was not as slow as I'd been before, and maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like I'd grown stronger as well.

There were other changes too, ones that I hadn't anticipated. My waist got smaller and more than once I found myself digging a new hole in my belt so that I could still use the thing. But other parts of me got bigger and I found none of my shirts were easy to put on anymore as they were too tight around the shoulders and armpits.

I ripped one of them while putting it on and Grace mended it, only I ripped it again and she said there was nothing to do but make me a bigger shirt.

I thanked God each day Anders came by to lend a hand, though he often arrived at the crack of dawn and so I was woken by Grace far earlier than was comfortable. We finished clearing and began to tackle the stumps. The way Mr. Bergman had said 'plucking' made the task seem a lot easier than it actually was. If I thought chopping trees was tough, hacking and pushing at stumps was something else entirely.

This being said, Anders was a strong boy and very intelligent and knew how to use logs and stones to accomplish most anything. Sometimes he'd try to explain why something would work.

"If we push this here log inwards, Sir, and then pull down on it, the stump'll be lifted."

It always worked the way he said it would, only I couldn't figure why or how.

He laughed at me for leaving the trees I couldn't lift in place. "Ye can just cut em up an' then move 'em, Sir."

I felt foolish for not thinking of this myself.

He taught me how to pick the best trees for building. We wanted them as straight as we could find them, with as few branches as possible, because the branches made knots in the wood. And some types of trees were better than others. He told me that it was best if the wood had time to sit in the sun and dry out before they were built with, but we both agreed we didn't have the time to let the wood sit for a few weeks or even months.

Time was beginning to be something on my mind. I'd been careful with my money thus far, and Grace had proven even more frugal than I was, but I very much wanted to find work sooner rather than later. This being said, I didn't want to take on employment without a built house or church.

Anders showed me how to measure and cut grooves into the logs so that they'd fit together tightly and how to hew them. I spent many days prepping the logs for when Anders came by next. The two of us together could carry them and beat them into place and before I knew it, we had a floor and one wall. Then another.

Cutting the window was tedious, and part of me felt like giving up and just living with no windows, but then I remembered the image I'd thought of while we were still at sea, of Grace sitting near the window, and so I cut us a window though. It took me two and a half days to get it right.

Two more walls after that. Then came the fireplace, made from stone. And then the roof. Mr. Bergman and Anders both came that day. Climbing up top to lay the roofing terrified me at first as I'd never been one to enjoy heights but after a few hours, I adjusted and was able to attempt to do my share of the work.

There was a sweet moment that day when Mr. Bergman asked why I'd chosen to build the roof so high. I had no answer as I'd only been doing what Anders suggested I do.

The boy paused, I think still terrified to speak to Mr. Bergman. His words were quiet, nearly a whisper. "Fer a loft, Sir."

"Why'd they need that?"